In a Massachusetts courtroom, a mother stands accused of killing her three young children — Cora, Dawson, and Callan — while her defense argues postpartum psychosis dissolved the boundary between suffering and culpability. Veteran prosecutor Jonathan Hatami, who has spent a career bearing witness to the systems that fail children, does not dispute that those systems failed here too. But he draws a firm and ancient line: understanding the conditions of a tragedy is not the same as absolving those who commit it. The question before the jury — and before the public — is whether compassion for the
Prosecutor: Postpartum struggles don't erase accountability for child deaths
Three children—Cora (5), Dawson (3), and Callan (8 months)—were killed by their mother, who also attempted suicide.
Nobody who murders children is a victim no matter what they're suffering through
Mark
When you say the focus has shifted away from the victims, what do you mean exactly? Isn't understanding why something happened part of honoring what was lost?
Mimi
Understanding and accountability aren't the same thing. Yes, we should investigate the failures—the medical system, the people around her. But that investigation shouldn't become the story. The story is that three children are dead.
Mark
But doesn't mental illness complicate responsibility in a way that, say, deliberate abuse doesn't? Isn't that why we have the insanity defense?
Mimi
It might. That's for a jury to decide. But what troubles Hatami is that the public conversation has already decided—it's already made her the sympathetic figure, the victim of circumstance. The children have become secondary.
Mark
So you're saying sympathy for her is inherently wrong?
Mimi
Not inherently. But sympathy shouldn't erase what happened. She admitted to strangling three children with exercise cords. That fact should remain central, not fade into the background of a larger story about systemic failure.
Mark
What would accountability look like to you in a case like this?
Mimi
A conviction. A sentence. And a clear message that killing your children—for whatever reason—means you will be held responsible. That's what Hatami believes the victims deserve.
The Pulse
- Three children — ages five, three, and eight months — were strangled in their home by their mother, who then attempted to take her own life; the facts of the deaths are not contested, only who bears responsibility for them.
- A wave of public sympathy has gathered around Lindsay Clancy, with supporters at the courthouse and advocates online arguing she was failed by medical systems that missed the severity of her postpartum psychosis.
- Prosecutor Jonathan Hatami, drawing on his experience with the Gabriel Fernandez murder case, warns that scrutinizing systemic failures must not become a mechanism for erasing the perpetrator's accountability.
- The defense and prosecution are locked in a contest over whether Clancy's mental state at the time of the killings legally shields her from criminal responsibility — a question that will ultimately rest with the jury.
- If convicted of first-degree murder on any of the three counts, Clancy faces life in prison without parole, making the jury's interpretation of mental health evidence the fulcrum on which her fate turns.
In a Massachusetts courtroom, a mother stands accused of killing her three young children — Cora, Dawson, and Callan — while her defense argues postpartum psychosis dissolved the boundary between suffering and culpability. Veteran prosecutor Jonathan Hatami, who has spent a career bearing witness to the systems that fail children, does not dispute that those systems failed here too. But he draws a firm and ancient line: understanding the conditions of a tragedy is not the same as absolving those who commit it. The question before the jury — and before the public — is whether compassion for the living can coexist with justice for the dead.
Jonathan Hatami has built his career prosecuting those who kill children. He understands that systems fail, that warning signs go unheeded, and that context is part of how justice makes sense of tragedy. But he holds a distinction that he believes the public conversation around Lindsay Clancy has begun to blur: understanding why something happened is not the same as excusing it.
Clancy is accused of strangling her three children — Cora, five; Dawson, three; and Callan, eight months old — in their Massachusetts home after sending her husband out on errands. She then jumped from a second-floor window. Her defense does not deny she caused the deaths. It argues instead that postpartum psychosis, depression, sleeplessness, and intrusive voices rendered her unable to understand the wrongfulness of her actions.
The case has generated an unusual volume of public sympathy. Supporters have appeared at the courthouse; advocates online have pointed to the medical professionals who missed signs of her deterioration, the systems that did not intervene in time. Hatami does not dismiss these failures — he says they deserve full scrutiny. But he is troubled by what has shifted in the conversation.
He draws a parallel to the Gabriel Fernandez case in Los Angeles, where an eight-year-old was tortured and killed by his mother and her boyfriend over months during which child protective services repeatedly failed to act. That case exposed profound systemic failures — and still ended in murder convictions. The accountability of the killers was not dissolved by the failures of the institutions around them.
Hatami sees the Clancy case moving in the opposite direction — where the focus on the mother's suffering has begun to crowd out the three children who are gone. 'Nobody who murders children is a victim no matter what they're suffering through,' he told Fox News Digital. His position is unambiguous: criminal responsibility must follow the act, regardless of the context surrounding it.
The jury will ultimately decide whether Clancy's mental state at the time of the killings meets the legal threshold for a defense — and whether understanding the full weight of her suffering means she should not be held fully accountable for the deaths of her children.
Jonathan Hatami has spent his career prosecuting people who kill children. He has seen the systems fail, the warning signs missed, the bureaucracies move too slowly. He knows that context matters—that understanding how a tragedy happened is part of justice. But he also knows something else: understanding is not the same as excuse.
Lindsay Clancy sits in a Massachusetts courtroom accused of strangling her three children to death. Cora was five. Dawson was three. Callan was eight months old. After sending her husband out for takeout and a pharmacy run, she killed them in their home, then jumped from a second-floor window in an attempt to end her own life. The facts are not in dispute. Her defense does not deny she caused their deaths. What is contested is whether she bears criminal responsibility—whether postpartum psychosis, depression, sleeplessness, and voices urging her to harm herself and her children should shield her from accountability.
The case has drawn national attention, and with it, a wave of public sympathy. Supporters have gathered at the courthouse. Online, people have rallied to Clancy's side. Mental health advocates have pointed to the failures around her—the medical professionals who did not catch what was happening, the systems that did not intervene, the husband who left the house. All of this deserves scrutiny, Hatami says. All of it should be examined. But something has shifted in the conversation, he argues, and it troubles him.
"Nobody who murders children is a victim no matter what they're suffering through," Hatami told Fox News Digital. He has prosecuted high-profile cases in Los Angeles, including the murder of eight-year-old Gabriel Fernandez, who was tortured and killed by his mother and her boyfriend. That case exposed massive failures by child protective services and inspired a Netflix documentary. The systems failed Gabriel. The people around him failed him. Social workers, law enforcement, government officials—they all missed signs over eight or nine months that could have saved his life. But Pearl Fernandez and Isauro Aguirre were still convicted of torture and murder. The investigation into systemic failure did not erase their culpability.
Hatami sees the same dynamic playing out now, but inverted. The focus on Clancy's mental health struggles, on the failures of those around her, on the context of her suffering—all of it has begun to overshadow the three children who are dead. "Instead of about the three victims who were innocent kids," he said, the conversation has centered on the mother. He did not see crowds cheering for Pearl Fernandez, he noted, even though others bore some responsibility for what happened to Gabriel. The killers were still held accountable.
Clancy's defense argues she was operating under postpartum psychosis, that she sought help repeatedly and was failed by the systems meant to protect her. Prosecutors contend she acted deliberately and knew what she was doing was wrong. If convicted of first-degree murder on any of the three counts she faces, she will spend the rest of her life in prison without parole. Hatami's position is unambiguous: "If you murder your children, you need to be held accountable and responsible for that. No matter what the whys are, no matter what reasons are." The case will turn on whether a jury agrees that understanding the context of her actions means she should not be held fully responsible for them.
Notable Quotes
If you murder your children, you need to be held accountable and responsible for that. No matter what the whys are, no matter what reasons are.— Jonathan Hatami, veteran child abuse prosecutor
Your children should be your life. And if you take their life, you should, as a person, want to be punished for that.— Jonathan Hatami
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